Promises Easily Made & Broken
by sliceofperfection
Summary: News of Sybil's upcoming nuptials arrives, and Cora and Robert have a decision to make. Tensions rise, tempers flare, and they find their themselves in a tough spot. How will they overcome their differences and come to terms with the decision their youngest daughter has made?
1. Chapter 1

_**It's almost comical that I'm posting this. You know, after all my adamant insisting that I'm finished writing fanfic. But anyway, I've always been curious about this particular moment in Cobert's history. It's something that was glossed over in the show, and even though I probably wrote a couple of tumblr drabbles about this (that later got deleted along with my old blog), I couldn't find any fic that really flushed out this idea in its entirety. So here we are again, folks. I'm not entirely sure how long this one will be, but probably not of epic proportions. Anyway, I hope you all enjoy it & aren't entirely sick of me just yet! It's probably crap, I mean, it's been ages since I wrote anything decent so...here goes nothing!  
**_

* * *

The rhythm of her heart beat twice as fast as the clicking sounds heels made as she strode downstairs to the library. Her palms grew damp from an anxious heat that stirred within her. And she carefully wiped them on the front of her skirt while transferring the slip of paper between her hands.

When it came to her husband, Cora Crawley was rarely unsure. But that is precisely what she felt in this singular moment.

Her uncertainty lead to indecision. She spent nearly half an hour after breakfast pacing the length of her upstairs dressing room before calling on O'Brien to dress her for the day. And even then, she kept the slip of news that came to be in her possession among the contents of her breakfast tray hidden away from her ladies maid.

But it didn't stop O'Brien from pressing the matter. She did, like so many other ladies maid's, live for intrigue.

Still, Cora couldn't discuss it with her. Not before she informed Robert. So she brushed off O'Brien's inquiries, and the rest of the dressing took place in a stiffened silence. She hated the uncomfortable quiet between them, but it was necessary.

Just as this conversation with Robert was necessary. No matter how uncomfortable it might be, it had to be said. She only hoped she hadn't wasted too much time with her nervous pacing that she wouldn't be able to catch him alone.

Fortunately when she made her way into the library, it was practically deserted, save for Robert at his desk. She felt a wave of relief course through her followed by a sense of dread. While they could have it out now as she would have liked them to, they would actually _have_ _to_ have it out. And the prospect was both appealing and daunting to her all at once.

He was bent over his desk, scrawling madly away while simultaneously flipping through a leather bound book. She knew, after many years of marriage, he was updating the figures from their more recent tenants.

His eyes darted upward as she approached him before flickering over to the tiny clock that rested on the top shelf of the desk. His mouth curled into a slight smile, and he commented lightly, "You're a bit early for tea."

It wasn't an air of disapproval she caught in his tone, but rather, a sound of pleasant surprise.

 _Good_ , she thought. And this realization afforded her a similarly shy smile to his own.

"Ah well, I was hoping to catch you alone," She admitted, her grin deepening as she stalled beside his chair. She peered up from heavy lids, hoping her demure expression, softened him a bit.

He glanced to his left and seemed to take in the curve of her body. Her hip rested against the top edge of his desk, as if she were inviting herself to side atop it. If weren't for the various papers and journals that littered the surface, and the prospect that either of their daughter's might soon walk in, she might have been bold enough to do such a thing. And he might have been bold enough to shift her more comfortably onto the surface. But neither one of them felt particularly bold at present.

Still, Robert surprised her by capping his pen as his gaze, and resting his hand atop her thigh. He leaned back comfortably, allowing his thumb to caress her leg through her skirt.

Her heart now hammered mercilessly between her ribs as she realized she now had his full attention.

"I've a bit of news," She broached hesitantly, hoping their present arrangement would disguise the minute quiver in her tone.

"Oh?" He arched a curious brow, his head tilting to one side.

Cora looked down at the paper clutched between both hands. "They've..." She swallowed, forcing the difficult words out, "...they've finished reading the bans."

Her eyes flickered up to meet his. And in that instant, she saw the mischievous glint fade from his pale blue eyes. His hand dropped from her leg, and he looked away, letting out a heavy sigh.

"So..." He managed rather glumly, "...they're moving forward with it all."

She wasn't sure if she was disappointed or irritated by his deflated tone until the question came out, steely and unguarded, "Did you think they wouldn't once you gave your blessing and she went off to Ireland?"

His frown deepened, and Robert regarded her with narrowing eyes as he managed to retort, "I was hoping once she got a taste of reality, she would see it wasn't the sort of life for her."

Her nerves were rattling inside of her now. Whether it be from his expression, his tone, or a combination of both, she couldn't be certain. But her right thumb and forefinger unconsciously smoothed out the slip of paper that remained in her position.

Cora rolled back her shoulders, cleared her throat, and decided evenly, "Well apparently she feels it is." She hesitated, forcing herself to stare back at his waiting face as she delivered the final words. Words she knew he would take as another blow he could not defend himself from. "She's invited us to the wedding."

"Has she now?" He practically snorted in that patronizing manner she found bothersome. Robert shifted in his seat, uncapping his pen again as if it were more important he resume his work than continue in this discussion. "As if she hasn't rubbed enough salt in that open wound," He grumbled loud enough for her to hear, scratching the pages rather forcefully with his pen.

Squeezing her eyes shut, she let out a terse breath, "Robert..."

"I suppose you'll manage to find a reason to politely decline," He jumped in sharply, forcing her gaze open.

"So..." Cora's brow pinched together, the words of her question clipped, "...we're to decline?"

He glanced up at her, brow arching as he proposed stiffly, "Would you have us accept? And show the world how we approve of Sybil's choice of husband?"

"But you _did_ approve?" She reminded him urgently, "At least you approved enough to give them your blessing."

Robert looked back down at his work, plainly insisting, "I gave them my blessing because there didn't seem to be another choice."

"There's _always_ another choice, Robert," She countered, her hands tightening around the letter, straining the fibers of the paper until her knuckles turned white.

His pen scraped harshly across the page in several strokes before he spoke again, "And would you rather have me parted on bad terms with them?"

"Of course not!" She sighed out of exasperation through tightly pursed lips.

"Then what, Cora?" Robert's palm slammed against the surface of the desk, and he shot another look of irritation up at her. "What did you expect of me?" Both of his hands now flew up in defense as he insisted, "She was leaving either way. We both knew there wasn't anything we could say or do that would stop her. The blessing was merely a formality."

She now felt her heartbeat calm into a hard, even rhythm, and in place of the frantic thumping was now a clenching sensation. She was angry at him. She knew this was how he would react, and yet, she still couldn't help but be angry at him.

Cora paced deeper into the room, passing behind him, her hands splayed across her middle. She stared out the open windows, watching the sun poke its brilliant rays in between pacts of white, fluffy clouds. When she found her voice again, the words came out in a guttural murmur, "And I suppose you see the wedding invitation as a mere formality then?"

"We cannot go," Was all he said.

She felt another harsh twist inside her chest, and peered over her shoulder, eyes narrowing, "Cannot? Or _will_ not?" She wasn't afraid to pick apart his words if necessary, to find fault in what she believed was already a weak argument.

"Please Cora, I do not wish to quarrel on the matter," His tone was softened by annoyance, and she felt the slight implication that it was her fault there was even a quarrel to be had.

And this only incited her ire towards him. " _I'm_ not the one quarreling," She spoke evenly, her defiance plain. "I'm simply informing you that our youngest daughter has invited us to her wedding."

Robert set down his pen once more, and turned around in his seat. He kept the same air as she did whenever he shared his retort, "And _I'm_ informing _you_ that you must find a polite way to decline."

"And is this declination for _you_? Or for _us_?" She cocked her head from side to side, awaiting to see if he'd take up the challenge she was laying before him.

His jaw muscles flexed tightly, his eyes bulging in a look of rage that threatened to explode into far fiercer words than what was already exchanged between them.

And Cora knew she had outsmarted him in this moment. It took everything in her to stifle the satisfied smirk that threatened to spread across her lips. She bit on her bottom lip, arching one of her brows as though silently provoking him.

And he knew it. The blood rushed to his face, and she saw the distinct splotches of pink invade his otherwise crisply white countenance. But before any other words could be said, the unmistakable sounds of two sets of feet drew nearer to where they stood, facing off.

And then Mary's smooth and assured voice rang clearly throughout the room, "Good afternoon Papa. Mama."

Cora turned back towards the window, concealing the letter beneath her folded hands at her waist. Robert focused his attention back at the paperwork, and both girls strolled about the room, right through the tension that hung low in the air.

"I do hope we aren't interrupting anything," Edith commented lightly.

It was the sounds of tea sloshing in cups and the light clink of silver against fine bone china, that immediately responded as Mary and her helped themselves to their tea.

"Of course not," Robert assured her after a few moments. He stood and made his way over to the table, finding his own cup and saucer.

Cora remained motionless nearby, watching his ministrations from the corner of her eye. She felt Robert glance in her direction, trying to steal her attention back towards him. She was always a pillar of reassurance for him, she always knew what to say and when. And he always looked to her for the reassurance that was needed in moments like this.

She felt that's what he was trying to do right this very moment. But she stayed resolute. She'd be damned if she would help him maneuver through this. Besides, she couldn't help him through something she couldn't yet agree to.

And so, she heard him exhale a deep breath before informing the girls, "Your Mama has just told me that your sister's wedding has been announced."

"Oh how wonderful!" Edith exclaimed far more enthusiastically than the situation called for.

Mary swallowed her tea and asked more primly, "When is it?"

"I don't know," Robert murmured while stirring the contents of his cup, "you'll have to ask your Mother."

She closed her eyes at this, railing internally from his slight. Unfolding the now worn piece of paper, she turned to face them all and offered as brightly as she could given the circumstances, "The 18th of July."

"A wedding at the height of summer," Mary huffed and rolled her eyes at this. She took a brief sip of tea, and then added, "Golly, I hope Ireland fairs better for us all than Yorkshire will."

"I'm afraid we shall not find out," Robert remarked while casually strolling towards the fireplace.

"And why not?" Mary piped up, her brow furrowing from her place on the red velvet settee.

"Your Mother and I have business to attend to that day," Robert told her, sipping his tea, and looking purposefully at Cora from over the top rim of the cup.

Edith glanced between them and probed curiously, "What business is that?"

"The pair of you ought to go," Robert answered, ignoring his second daughter's question; another sip of tea filled the brief pause in conversation. "But..." He looked at them as he suggested lightly, "...don't make a fuss about it. Sybil doesn't wish to make it a spectacle of the thing."

"Yes," Cora added coolly, crisply refolding the letter as each of her next words cut through the air, " _Sybil_ doesn't wish to make a fuss."

Nobody said a word for a few seconds. It was as if all the air in the room had been sucked out of it. In those few moments of silence, Robert and Cora merely stared across the room at one another. The girl's sat on opposite settees shooting glances at one another before chancing more subtle ones at both their parents, who stood in clear opposition. Once they couldn't possibly take anymore sips from their cups, it was Edith who dared to speak up.

"Mama?"

Cora looked to her daughter, and saw the look of concerned splayed across her face. Clearing her throat and glancing downward, she quickly found an excuse to retract herself from the room. "If you'll excuse me, I've rather a headache now, I'm afraid."

And without a final look back at Robert or her daughter's, she knew this was only the beginning of the battle. And it was one she was determined to overcome.


	2. Chapter 2

Robert felt uneasy retiring so shortly after drinks, but it had little to do with his Mama's complaints that he was doing rather a poor job at playing host on his own, and more to do with the promised tension that loomed upstairs in their dressing room.

He knew that from the moment she excused herself from afternoon tea, claiming a headache, that this battle had only just begun. He knew it would be a long and hard one whenever O'Brien informed him that Her Ladyship hadn't improved enough to join them for dinner. He should have expected this really, because after nearly three decades of marriage, he knew precisely what Sybil meant to Cora. Just as he knew what this moment meant for her since she gave him three daughters.

But knowing something, and understanding it weren't quite the same. And while he was aware of his wife's soft spot for Sybil, he could never understand why she appeared to remain to obstinate on this matter. Not whenever it involved so much more than the bond between mother and daughter.

Even so, he was aware he would have to take great care in what came next. While he couldn't allow them to go the wedding, he needed her to understand it wasn't a personal affront to her, or to Sybil. No, it was a great affront to propriety. And that was the one thing he couldn't afford to offend. Not now, that Downton was finally regaining its proper place in the world following the great and terrible war. Not when they were starting to heal from those wounds that ran deep into the earth like they did from within their family.

And Sybil had tore open another wound with this whole marriage business to the chauffeur. No, he wouldn't let this wound remain open for them to bleed out over the rest of the world. He would effectively close it, and Cora would help apply the bandages. That was what they all needed to get on in a respectable fashion. That was all they needed to keep going as they always had.

Besides, there was a ladies charity ball the weekend of the 18th, as Mama reminded him over dinner that evening. And it would be in poor taste if the Dowager Countess of Grantham didn't enlist in her daughter-in-law's help in heading the organization efforts. Especially when both women had been such active members to the organization, and to their committee throughout the last decade. To decline in itself would be viewed as ungrateful. To decline in order to accept an invitation to the youngest Crawley daughter's runaway wedding would be decided as unseemly. The wildness of such a gesture would never be forgiven. And as Mama so aptly put, it was Robert's duty to remind his dear wife of her responsibilities to her mother-in-law as well as to this event. Because no doubt she had merely allowed her emotions to seize hold of her at the reminder of her youngest daughter's wedding.

Robert failed to speak his rebuttal that Cora would happily give up Downton and all the land it sat on in order to attend her daughter's wedding. This would only prompt another invitation to the Dower House, and force them to sit in on another lecture regarding marital harmony. Then he would only have more troubles to deal with back at Downton. So he smiled and nodded in agreement before explaining it would all work out nicely, that the girl's would be going in their place, and that would be nearly as good enough, given their current responsibilities here, and the short notice of it all.

Then he masterfully changed the subject to what events Mary and Edith had been invited to that season. No more mention of Sybil's wedding was had over dinner.

But even the shift in conversation didn't lighten his mood, or loosen the knot in his stomach. He knew he would have to discuss it once more later that evening. And what was worse, it would be done openly behind the closed doors of her dressing room, where he couldn't hide behind choice words and turn of phrases like he could in the dining room.

Once Bates had finished with dressing him and he faced the doors that separated their rooms, Robert felt ill prepared in nothing more than his plush dressing gown, satin pajamas, and soft slippers. Bates had always made him feel ready and solid anytime he was about to head into battle. But he supposed this was one time, his valet couldn't offer him any reassurances. The reassurances had to come from her, and Robert wasn't entirely certain he would get any.

So he took a deep breath, hoping it might steady his nerves, but they still bounced around in the pit of his stomach. And when his knuckles hit the wooden door, he felt them flutter in an uncertain rhythm that sounded anything but a polite greeting.

When he didn't hear the usual, _"Come in!"_ that he waited for whenever things were tense between them, Robert felt for the knob to check whether or not he'd be granted entry that evening. When the brass gave way in his hand, he tentatively poked his head through the door.

He couldn't see her straightaway for she wasn't laying in bed like he expected her to be. It wasn't until he took a step into her room that he found her lounging on the chaise situated at the foot of the bed.

Her legs were together and curled in an arc, and she leaned heavily on one elbow while she flicked through the pages of her latest book. She was dressed for bed, the front of her robe hanging loosely open and her hair tumbling from the plait that cascaded down her back. Almost as though she had remain stagnant in that position and type of dress for several hours now.

Cora didn't flinch as the hinges of the door squeaked in protest, nor did she bother to even look up to see him hovering awkwardly in between their rooms. It wasn't until he felt himself breaking the heavy silence between them that she seemed to show any awareness (or interest) in his presence at all.

"I see your headache has much improved," As much as he tried to showcase his relief he couldn't silence the irritated edge that accentuated his words.

"Yes, the lie down this afternoon did wonders," She replied, laying on the softness of her tone in such a thick fashion that it made his jaw tighten. She flicked to the next page, so obviously not taking in the words on the page, but insisting on a pretense of doing it anyway.

This deliberate act of indifference sparked a change in him. His irritation was made plain as he went on rather confidently, "And I'm sure skipping out on dinner with Mama also played a part."

"Don't worry," She sighed, pretending to remain unaffected by him, "I'll be sure to make my formal apologies to her later. But I trust you gave her one on my behalf in the interim."

"Of course," His hand left the doorknob, but he didn't move to close off the two rooms. Instead, he stepped into hers as though she had invited him to do so. As though there was nothing brewing between them.

"Good," Cora clipped lightly, another page crisply turning, another attempt at proving a point proven in her favor.

He stopped short of the opposite armchair that was wordlessly deemed his. Robert's hands dug into the back of it, and he stared down at her, feeling the words burn his throat as they bubble over his lips, "What _else_ was I supposed to do?"

She must have sensed his displeasure earlier, but now she was allowing it to show it's effect on her. Snapping her book shut, she looked up at him, feigning an innocent tone as she spoke, "Oh don't be cross with me darling, I can't help I was unwell. It must have been something I had over tea."

It took everything in him not to laugh. A snort escaped him, although it was anything but humorous. So she wished to take his approach on this. That was fine. He was most comfortable with these sorts of arguments anyway.

Tearing his focus away from her seemingly relaxed form, he paced along his side of her bed all the while grumbling, as if he were talking to himself. But his carefully selected words were directed for her.

"Yes...yes...we ought to tell Mrs. Patmore not to serve those honey biscuits again. You see, tea didn't sit well with me either. But _one of us_ had to ensure Mama was taken care of this evening."

"Well I'm sorry it couldn't be me, darling," She brandished her sweetest smile, and batted her eyelashes at him. "But we both know your constitution is much stronger than mine."

He stopped pacing and faced her, his eyes sweeping over her accusingly, "Oh I don't know, you seem to be doing _just fine_ now."

"Yes. I am. _Now_." Cora's eyes lost any warmth she was attempting to manufacture. Instead, he saw their color harden in his direction, her mouth drawing into a thin line.

"Mmm...well good," He donned a smile of his own, somewhat gladdened by the sight of her concern. He wanted her to feel just as unnerved as he did by all of this. So he sat down in the chair across from her as though this was any other night, and began to untie the front of his robes.

"Well since you're feeling better, perhaps I could let you know what you missed at dinner," He went on evenly, not bothering to wait for her to respond. "Mama mentioned there's the ladies auxiliary charity ball the weekend of the 18th. As you know, she's on the board, and she's got a good bit to do in order to prepare. She wants you to help pitch in with the preparations for the event."

He saw her expression falter for a split second, and then she folded her arms in front of her and snorted, "Does she now?"

"Yes, Cora, she does," He finished with the tie on his gown, allowing it to fully hang open.

She made another condescending sound of incredulity, this time coupled with a roll of her eyes.

"Why is that so hard for you to believe?"

Swinging her legs until her bare feet touched the carpeted floor, Cora leaned forward and snapped, "Because in all the time that we've been married your mother has _never_ once _asked_ for my help with anything. In fact, she _always refuses_ it."

"Perhaps she's turning over a new..."

"Oh spare me the patronizing tone, Robert!" She leapt to her feet, hands balled into fists on either side, "Let's call a spade a spade, shall we? _You_ couldn't come up with any other clever rhetoric to persuade me from attending Sybil's wedding without you! So you enlisted your mother's help to keep your wife in line! Isn't that so?"

"No it most certainly is not so!" He stood just as quickly, feeling the heat inside of him rise to a steady boil. "In fact, if you must know, Mama was the one who brought up the charity ball!"

"Oh I'm almost sure of it! But you were the one who accepted on my behalf, no doubt!" She jarred her finger in his direction accusingly.

"I didn't want you to appear ungracious! You already missed out on dinner and..."

"And what, pray tell, was _so_ significant about _this_ dinner that would make me appear _ungracious_? I had a headache, Robert!"

"So you say," He countered sharply without even thinking.

"Oh, yes," She frowned, practically scoffing, "because I have a tendency to lie to you."

"Don't play coy with me, Cora." He growled, "I know your absence tonight was meant as a slight to me for what went on at tea this afternoon."

"Oh?" She trilled rather haughtily, crossing her arms over her chest and thrusting out her chin. "So it wasn't the honey biscuits after all?"

"No!" Robert cried out, his frustrations overflowing as he gestured wildly to her. "It was your pride!"

" _My_ pride?!" She shrieked, her eyes widening at him as though he had grown two heads.

"Yes!" He affirmed, crossing his arms similarly to her stance.

Letting out a sharp breath, she began, slowly shaking her head, "That is the most ridiculous..."

"Is it?" He interrupted harshly. "Because from where I'm standing it seems to be a rather truthful description of your childish behavior!"

"Oh, so now _I'm_ acting like a child?!"

"To lock yourself up in your dressing room for half the day, and avoid the rest of the family just because you have a difference of opinion..."

She chimed in venomously, "I'm not the one who runs to my mother anytime I cannot sort things out with my wife!"

"For the last time!" He roared, taking great care to enunciate each of the words as though this was the only way to make her understand. "I did not run to Mama! She was here for dinner and we were talking about the ball!"

"So Sybil's wedding was not brought up once?" She challenged, tossing her hands out to the side until they smacked against her hips.

He hesitated, giving her half the answer she wanted and needed to finish this round. But he would hold his ground, he'd been trained to not defeat unless the loss was far too great. So he exhaled a terse breath and asserted as calmly as he possibly could given the intensity of their exchange.

"Not in regards to this event."

"Well..." She smirked, her eyes narrowing to slits now as her hands fused into her hips, "how terribly convenient this is for you and your plan to decline the invitation to our daughter's wedding."

"Convenience is rather difference than coincidence, Cora," He sighed again, this time aware of the weariness to his words. He felt the pressure building at his temples, the signal that a headache was being self-induced at this point.

"Oh I wholeheartedly agree," She cocked her head to one side, finishing rather smartly. "But not when you mother is involved."

He couldn't argue this. There was some methodical thought put into the way this all had unfolded. But while they could go round and round pointing fingers and assigning blame, it didn't really matter. Nothing and no one was going to change his mind on this. She could cry, she could scream, she could beg and plead as much as she wanted. He would maintain his position on this matter.

When he trusted his voice again to speak, Robert told her firmly in a low, gravelly voice, "We're not going Cora."

She swallowed hard, and set her jaw, almost nodding her assent to this statement. "You've made that abundantly clear," She replied, crossing her arms again. "Just as you've made it clear to me that I have no desire for you to sleep in my dressing room this evening."

His stomach dropped. She might as well have slapped him across the face. But he tried not to let it show. Closing the front of his robes, he glanced off the side, "Fine." His eyes rested on hers, and he saw the smirk spread across her lips. The satisfaction of her victory gleaming back at him. He couldn't stand it, and perhaps that's what he meant to say to her. But it came out all wrong.

"I can't bear to look at you anyway."

Her mouth dropped open, and she allowed the hurt of what his words caused her to be known. He wanted to take them back, wanted to swallow them, and just leave with as much dignity as he could muster under the circumstances. But she wouldn't let him.

She shut her gaping mouth, and turned away so she didn't have to face him. And so that she could give him precisely what he told her he wanted. "Well then..." She kept her tone even and cool, but when she tossed half a glance over one shoulder, he saw the tremor in her bottom lip, "...at least we finally agree upon something."

* * *

He shut the door behind him with a heavy heart. He waited to hear the hurried patter of her footsteps against the carpet, and the familiar click of the lock, effectively severing any ties between reconciliation tonight.

Leaning against the heavy door, he heard the scuffling of her feet, but they didn't draw nearer. If anything, they sounded like they were retreating. And then there was the strangled sound of a cry being cut off before it could gather any real volume.

It was a sound he knew too well. A sound from many nights where he said the wrong thing, or acted in the wrong manner. A sound that often rang through his ears in the early days of their marriage, but one he hadn't heard for quite some time.

But regardless of how much time had passed since he last heard it, Robert still felt himself react the same way in hearing it. His heart strained with every beat that sounded in between her stifled gasps, and his gut ached with that same force that is often associated with being punched. And there was that pressure building behind his temples and the bridge of his nose, forcing him to blink hard several times.

As the minutes wore on, her attempts to quiet the building sobs became less successful, as did his ability to withhold comforting her. So he set everything else aside, and went to her.

* * *

 _ **Have no fear, we will see what unfolds next in chapter 3. I was just trying to get something up tonight (at a reasonable hour because URGH adulting tomorrow). Anyway, loved it? Hated it? Think I should give up all hope of ever doing anything meaningful with my writing? Ok, that last bit was intended to be slightly dramatic. Anyway, thanks for reading this so far, your support means the world. Share your thoughts if you have the time!**_

 _ **xoxo,**_

 _ **Lynn**_


	3. Chapter 3

She promised herself she wouldn't begin to wilt until she was certain he'd gone. She waited until his hand released the knob and it clinked back into place, signaling that he had let go of any attempt to fix things between them this evening.

Then she let herself be carried on another wave of unyielding loss and grief. She bounded artlessly towards the bed, her face concealed by her right palm, tightly pressed against her lips in an effort to mask any sounds of her hurt. Wrenching open the beside table, she began rifling around for her handkerchief, and soon replaced her hand with the square piece of fabric.

How dare he say those things to her? How dare he say them, especially after all that business with his mother at dinner? She hadn't even been present, and Cora supposed that was what had bothered her most. She trusted him to hold the side for them in her absence. Why, this time, he had chosen not to, she simply couldn't understand.

It was Sybil after all. Their darling Sybil. Mama didn't have any claim over her beyond that of the doting grandmother. Yet, she staked claim over the situation they found themselves in. She drove a wedge in between them, a wedge that Cora had left for her to insert herself in.

This feeling of betrayal hadn't been felt since the early days. They had grown past that sensation, moved on, matured together, grown more open with their communication. Yet, here they were, retreating back to old ways. It made her want to scream.

But her upbringing and a life's worth of experience in this house and in this position had taught her that _that_ type of behavior was childish, and certainly not the right approach. So she cried quietly in the four corners of her handkerchief, only blowing her nose whenever she could scarcely breathe.

It wasn't only Robert and their clipped conversation over tea, and their more heated disagreement just now. It was all the memories, all the hopes and dreams she'd held in her minds eye for Sybil from the first time she held her as a tiny bundle in her arms. They were now being threatened. Anything she ever hoped for Sybil's future was now slipping away from reality, and becoming nothing more than a fantasy.

She'd already said goodbye to her baby, and now she was forced to saying goodbye to witnessing the start of her new life.

She shouldn't be surprised. She knew the protocol. Having been married to Robert for the majority of her life, she knew it was always about the look of the thing. But she never imagined that would _always_ apply to the both of them. She learned early on that in most cases it did. But this was _their_ daughter. This was _Sybil_. Their first of their daughters to be married. As her mother, she, Cora Crawley, should be there. Even if her father, Robert Crawley, the Earl of Grantham, could not, _she_ should be granted _some_ leniency.

Sinking down on the edge of the bed, Cora felt her breath catch in the back of her throat. She pressed the square handkerchief against her mouth, whimpering lowly. Her shoulders shuddered as her stifled cries racked through her, and trying to hold it all in only made her pain run deeper.

But the twist of the brass knob from the other side of the door reminded her that she couldn't fully give in. She wouldn't surrender yet. She hastily dabbed beneath her eyes, twisting the handkerchief in her lap as the door squealed open.

"Cora..." He exhaled heavily, his remorse palpable in the single intonation of her name.

She pinched her eyes shut, feeling a similar pang deep inside of her heart. Inhaling, her fingernails dug into her palms as she steadied herself long enough to say, "Robert please, I'm rather tired."

"I don't wish to argue," He went on quietly, his footsteps shuffling deeper into the room.

If she was being truthful, she didn't want to either. But he gave her no other alternative.

"You know I..." He paused here before clearing his throat to finish, "...I don't like to leave things like this until morning. Not if we can help it."

She nodded and sniffed, wordlessly agreeing. She knew all too well of his desire never to go to bed on bad terms. The early days had been too full of that, and too fraught with heartache as a result. Nowadays they made a point to set things right before falling asleep.

Cora then heard herself asking in a shaky voice, "Then...what is it that you came in here to say?"

"I came in here to apologize," He answered simply, his words laced with regret.

The silence that settled between them was soon followed by the scuffling of his feet again. She could tell from the increasing sounds of his footfall against the carpet that he was drawing nearer. And shortly after, she saw him cross her field of vision. He stopped in front of the fireplace that lined the same wall she faced.

"I want things to be right with us again," His hand rested on the edge of the mantle, his eyes transfixed momentarily by the bright flames dancing in the hearth. And then slowly, his eyes lifted towards hers, and he probed cautiously, "Don't you?"

In seeing his sharply inverted brow, and his mouth twisted to form a saddened half smile, she felt herself grow defensive. He was in pain, and it hurt her to see it, even if she felt as though she wasn't in the wrong. "Of course I do but..." She stopped herself suddenly from catapulting into another heated debate. _Because that had worked so well the first time_ , she inwardly chastised.

"Yes?" He arched a questioning brow.

There were so many things she wanted to say. So many things that she could say, and that would cause this next part of their conversation to go horribly wrong. And in spite of wanting to hold her ground. In spite of her not wanting to surrender to his will, she _was_ tired. It _was_ exhausting arguing with him.

So she went the less aggressive route, and instead, laid all of her insecurities out in the open. Insecurities that even now, after twenty-some odd years of marriage to him, still flared up from time to time. Shaking her head, she asked him sadly, "Why did you let her do it, Robert? Why did you let her push in when it wasn't even settled between us?" Her eyes were filling up again, and she resisted the urge to tear her gaze away from his.

"Cora," He exhaled again, his deep felt emotions expelling in the single breath. "Please believe me when I tell you this...I did not intend for my mother to settle this for us." He took several steps towards her, shaking his head a bit as he continued speaking, "I did not intend for _that_ to happen." He knelt before her, his hands hovering in between them as he wrestled with grasping her hands or not. In the end, he rested them on top of hers, declaring firmly, "I _swear_ to you."

His hands were hot covering hers, but she didn't move to flip over her palms and interlace their fingers. That would be an act of reassurance. And she wouldn't relent that much; not yet, at least.

Her saddened tone rose an octave, her next words stretching thin, "Then why is everything being decided _for me_ on this matter? Why don't _I_ have a say in this? _I am_ Sybil's mother." She clenched her knees sharply enough for him to feel the tendons in her hands ripple as she emphasized her point.

"Yes," He let out a slow breath, lowering his gaze between them. Cora could tell he was choosing his next words just as carefully as she had been. "You _are_ , and no one is disputing _your_ position."

She heard the words he stressed, and pursed her lips tightly together as she tried to decipher their precise meaning. Angling her face forward, she tried to capture his eye once more. Sensing her attention on him, he glanced up again and proffered a crooked, half smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.

"But Cora," He took in another breath, trying to steady his nerves. His hands trembled against hers as he went on, "Mama chiming in with her own opinions or not, you know we cannot go. The nature of our position in the county..."

" _Your_ position, you mean," She piped up defensively, her pale cheeks flushing a rosy hue.

She saw the flash of iciness in his gaze, and instantly she regretted her hasty interjection.

Pinching her eyes shut, she looked off to one side, "Forgive me, I don't know what overcame me."

"You're my wife," He remarked steadily, aiming to keep his tone neutral. "Which makes it your position as well."

"Robert I-" Her voice stalled and she swallowed, hard. She inhaled and then sighed, her eyes resting on him once more, "This is all very difficult for me."

He nodded, his lips pressed together to stifle the obvious emotions that spread across his face.

"I know you don't always agree with the way we've done things here."

She bit on her lower lip, resisting the urge to argue this point with him. It would be a futile one anyway. He was speaking the truth.

"But Cora, isn't it enough that we've _allowed_ it to happen? We haven't even begun to deal with what the horrid newspapers will undoubtedly spew."

Her gaze narrowed, and he cleared his throat before swallowing and thoughtfully selecting his next words.

"What I mean is, _that_ will be difficult enough for us. Will it not?" He tilted his head to one side, an expression of quiet pleading crossing his face. His hands tightened over hers urgently, and she felt her chest tighten. "We shouldn't give them anymore fuel to add to that fiery frenzy. And our presence at the wedding will only enable things to get more out of control than they already are."

Rationally his points were sound. He wasn't being harsh. He was, like always, looking out for the best interests of their family. And while her brain teetered on the edge of conceding, her heart gravely protested.

"Robert," She swallowed the lump in her throat before taking a deep, steadying breath. "I understand your point of view, truly, I do." The corners of her mouth twitched reassuringly.

"But you do not agree?" He surmised from the pause that soon followed.

She offered an apologetic smile before confiding with a slight shake of her head, "I miss her terribly. I know I shouldn't. She's no longer our girl but..." She sighed before looking down and muttering, "...I miss her terribly. And her choice of husband. It..." Her eyes flickered up to find his again, "...it frightens me. The life she's chosen. I..." Her vision blurs again, and she looks off to one side, blinking hard.

His hands squeezed hers tightly, and she sensed him shifting closer to her. "Oh Cora..." He exhaled with a heavy heart.

It was the softness in his tone contrasted with the strength in his presence that set her off again. She hated admitting it. How much she needed his strong arms to wrap around her shoulders, and draw her body into his. How much she wanted him to tell her that Sybil would be fine, and that her choice of husband wouldn't be the ruin of her.

But she discovered as he settled beside her on the bed, tucking her into his solid embrace, that there was only so much he could do. In spite of the uncertainty that loomed ahead, she knew they would at least be on the same side then.

* * *

 **Sorry this took forever. I know I haven't written anything in months. So I apologize if this sucks. Anyway...there might be a couple of other chapters to come in this.  
**


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